“Yeah, there are plenty of single parents,” I say. “Sandra Bullock, Hoda Kotb, Charlize Theron…”
Dad still doesn’t seem convinced, so Mom adds, “Besides, let’s be honest. She’s the one who’s going to take care of the kids anyway. Not her husband.” That line we were toeing a few minutes earlier? Well, consider it effectively crossed. Because I might have thought I imagined it the first and even second time. But there was nothing subtle or passive about this comment.
Unsurprisingly Dad…does nothing. He’s great at pointing out flaws and shortcomings when it comes to others. Himself, on the other hand…
The rest of the game doesn’t get any better. For all his “sensible” talk, Dad buys all the stocks and tries his luck at each opportunity to play the market. But despite his best efforts, he never spins the right number, making him lose money each time. I can’t ignore the similarities, but it goes to show that in Life—and in real life—you can make all the right moves and still end up with nothing.
The last space on the game board isDay of Reckoning, an ominous—if not doomsday—ending to the game. It’s time we count up our money, and the one who has the most wins the game. As Dad pointed out, each player collects twenty-four thousand dollars per dependent. With no kids, Gavin is out of the running. I don’t have a spouse, but I collect the money for the carload of children I have, landing me in first place. Mom trails behind me as a close second. But it’s Dad who is in last place. When it’s clear he doesn’t have enough to move on, his expression turns somber.
“I reckon you don’t have enough to be a millionaire,” I say with a deep Southern accent in an attempt at levity. He remains unmoved.
“Wait a second. There’s a chance I can still win,” Dad says, suddenly coming back to life. He reads out loud the instructions off thebox. “ ‘If a player doesn’t have enough money to be a millionaire, they can try their chance at becoming a Millionaire Tycoon. All they have to do is put everything they own on a number and spin the dial. If it lands on that number, they win the game.’ ”
“But you don’t have enough to win, even if the dial lands on your number.”
“I can use my car as collateral,” Dad says, moving his car to the number.
Mom tilts her head at him. “Dale, isn’t it enough that you have your car and family?”
“That’s loser mentality. No one wants to end up with just a car and family,” he says, not seeming to get the connection to our real life. Then a scary thought enters my mind. Maybe he does get the connection, and this is how he really feels about us.
“I refuse to end up on the Poor Farm. I need to be on Millionaire Acres,” he says with more determination than when we first started the game. I’m not even sure who he’s talking to at this point. To us or himself.
By now everyone’s abandoned the game. Except for Dad, who’s gearing up to spin the spinner. He’s the only one paying attention as the spinner slows to a stop.
“I win!” Dad pumps his arms in celebration. Gavin and I can only stare at him incredulously. Mom seethes.
“And how does it feel?” Mom asks. “Is it worth it? To make it to the top but have no one to celebrate with?”
“Gloria, what are you talking about?”
“We may have lost the company, your title, the bulk of our wealth. But even though it seems like we’ve lost everything, there’s still something we have that can’t be taken away from us.” She glances atme, then at Gavin, before turning her attention back to Dad. “And if you’re not careful, you could lose that too.”
She goes to her room and slams the door behind her. Gavin and I do the same.
More than anything, this game was a reality check. These past few weeks, I thought Dad was starting to see us more clearly. That I’m more business-minded than he gave me credit for and that Gavin has talents he was too closed-minded to appreciate. But now I can see that the changes in Dad’s perspective only went skin deep. Like Mom told me before, it’s not easy for him to forget about the past that made him who he is, and that includes societal values.
Chapter 29
It’s one thing to lose at the Game of Life, but in real life? I can’t make the same mistakes. Last night was a reminder that living here with my family is not a winning strategy and definitely not a long-term solution. But if I want to be able to live on my own, I have to find a way to earn a proper living. And that can’t happen until I hire Kiki back. I’ve accepted the fact that I have to lower my standards in order to achieve my goal. That means being open to any opportunity that comes my way, including the charity event for the sad and unwanted animals Kiki suggested in our last call. There’s still time to be considered for it. That is,ifI can hustle.
After thinking about it for the rest of the week, I come up with an idea that I plan to present to Callie when we meet at the cafe for tea. Instead of selling my clothes to a consignment store, I decide to propose the idea of sectioning off part of our farmer’s market table for some gently used items. In exchange, I’ll offer half of what I earn from selling my things to the town’s beautification proceeds. I figure if I have to split the profits with anyone, I’d rather they go to Blaire than a consignment store.
“What are you doing?” I ask when I see Gavin and Mom in the kitchen, hovering over a giant bowl in the sink.
“I’m teaching Gavin kimjang.” Mom smiles affectionately at me.
I smile back at her. At least Mom isn’t reverting to the gender-normative thinking from her day. Gavin slips on the pink rubber gloves, eager to get started. It lifts my mood to see Gavin so motivated. After the botched game night, I would have thought Dad had discouraged his culinary pursuits. Speaking of…“Where’s Dad?” I ask, realizing he’s nowhere to be found.
“Where do you think?” Mom says, and Gavin nods toward the window, indicating Dad’s whereabouts.
I sigh knowingly. Ever since Dad realized the profitability of kimchi in Blaire, he’s been so extra about it. At least he finally came around to Mom’s idea, which makes her happy. And busy. So busy. Is it possible the bowl has grown in size since we got here?
“Where are you off to?” Gavin eyes me.
“I’m going to meet Callie. Wanna come?” I ask in a mildly playful voice, which Mom doesn’t pick up on but Gavin certainly does. His ears and neck are almost as red as the bag of dried red pepper flakes.
“Nah, I’m going to stay with Mom. Tell her I said hi.”
